


Love Handles

by Phoenix_Soar



Series: Wicked Thing [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale Has Weight Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: Crowley is a sweet thing and now that he is allowed, he wants to show Aziraphale just how lovely he finds his Angel.As they try to adjust to the new turn their relationship takes after Armageddon, Crowley discovers that Aziraphale harbours certain self-conscious thoughts about his body. Well now, that just won’t do…
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wicked Thing [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546879
Comments: 47
Kudos: 375





	Love Handles

**Author's Note:**

> Part 7 of my 'Wicked Thing' verse. To understand the premise/context of this fic, please read the first two parts ['Wicked Games'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286790) and ['Hopes Realised'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458725)  
> (This fic also makes references to ['When in Rome'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605847) and ['Just, let me'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868320).)
> 
> This is set a few months post ‘Hopes Realised’, after they begin officially ‘making love’ /insert lovestruck Crowley face/.  
> It was born out of my desire to combine the topics of body image and praise kink, but in this fic both are focussed on Aziraphale because of reasons I mentioned in the End Notes.
> 
> This fic is rated more for Crowley’s mouth than anything else >///< (Listen. Aziraphale short-circuiting Crowley’s brain when they’re intimate? Yes. But Crowley, when he is _inspired_ [/cough/ see ‘When in Rome’], talking absolute filth to Aziraphale during sex? Also yES. I see no downside here.)

Crowley is a sweet thing which he, like any self-disrespecting Demon, denies unto the ending of the world and even beyond that.

Crowley is a sweet thing nonetheless, and now that he is _allowed_ , he is eager to unleash millennia of repressed desires to show Aziraphale just how lovely he finds his Angel.

For the most part, he’s accomplishing it with resounding success on their dates, where Crowley can now lavish all his attentions on Aziraphale without holding himself in check. And rather spectacularly in bed too, if the way he has Aziraphale screaming* his name every time is anything to go by.

(* Alternatively, whimpering into the pillow from exhaustion and overstimulation, on the days when Aziraphale doesn’t want to leave the bed after just one or two rounds.

The first couple of times, Crowley had tried to stop when Aziraphale seemed too sore to continue; but the Angel insisted every time, begging almost desperately for Crowley to not stop.**

** On one occasion, Crowley had to insist on a break for _his_ own sake. ‘Angel, I’ll stay in this bed and make love to you for eternity if you want, but you gotta give me a minute if you don’t want me to discorporate.’)

But there is a little thing that has been nagging at him ever since that victorious Sunday after the world did not end. Since that day, the two of them often undress each other the human way. It’s something Crowley has wanted to do for longer than he cares to keep track of; this casting aside of convenient miracles in favour of deeper intimacy, more touching, and the build up of a sweeter anticipation before they let themselves go. 

Yet, despite going through the actions, Crowley notices that Aziraphale still tends to rush. Not like he’d done their first time in Rome, when he almost ripped their togas off, but … he doesn’t give Crowley the time to explore whatever bit of skin is revealed before he is fumbling to remove the next article of clothing, not stopping until they’re finally nude and he can pull Crowley into bed.

Initially, Crowley figured that now they’re free to be together, Aziraphale had just been desperate to get to the love-making. After so long, he couldn’t have blamed the Angel.

But now, months later, when Aziraphale yet again deters Crowley’s attempt to kiss his neck for longer than a few seconds, instead pulling away to tug impatiently at Crowley’s jacket, he’s certain that the Angel is rushing this bit on purpose. 

He catches Aziraphale by the wrists, stilling him. ‘Angel. Let me touch you.’

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. They are in Crowley’s bedroom, three feet from his bed where his black sheets are still rumpled from that morning*, and the Angel shoots an impatient glance at it.

(* Normally, his bed knows to put itself to rights as soon as Crowley is up. But earlier, when Aziraphale’s idea of a morning greeting was to sit on his cock and follow that up with pounding Crowley into the mattress, he’d been tempted to leave his sheets as they were.**

** Minus the stains. For all that Aziraphale likes to have Crowley’s come dripping out of him after a good shag - something that Crowley still finds both surprising and arousing - he can do without any of that on his sheets.)

‘In case you haven’t noticed, my dear, I am trying to do just that. If you’d just let me get these infernal clothes _off_ -’

Crowley pulls him closer, until the Angel is pressed to his front. ‘Not what I meant, angel.’

‘Then what?’

‘Pretty sure you know what.’

When Aziraphale just looks at him with a carefully blank expression, the Demon sighs.

‘Why won’t you let me touch you while we undress, Aziraphale? Touch you properly,’ he adds when the Angel opens his mouth with what Crowley knows will be a protest. ‘I want … I’d like to do that for you, you know? To …’

Crowley has to take a moment to fortify himself. After so long of having to keep everything in, this sudden freedom to express the things on his mind - despite knowing that Aziraphale wants to hear them - is not easy to act on yet.

Clearing his throat, Crowley says, somewhat gruffly, ‘I’d like to kiss and touch you. During, I mean. Kiss you everywhere,’ he clarifies when Aziraphale parts his lips again. ‘And just … go slow, y’know?’

Aziraphale’s face has been steadily reddening through Crowley’s halting explanation. He blinks and looks away, to a point over the Demon’s shoulder.

Crowley feels his heart sink. ‘Do you - d’you not want that? ’S’fine, we don’t have to - I won’t do anything you hate, forget what I -’

‘No, my dear,’ says Aziraphale gently, looking back up at him. He frees his wrists from Crowley’s grasp to press his palms against his chest. ‘It’s not that at all. I don’t hate it, I love everything we do together…’

‘You don’t have to force anything,’ Crowley says uncertainly. When Aziraphale doesn’t pull away, he carefully wraps his arms around the Angel’s middle. ‘If you prefer not to do something or if I make you uncomfortable, just tell me and -’

‘It’s not that,’ Aziraphale repeats, a bit more forcefully than before. He gazes up at Crowley, his brows furrowed, then sighs. ‘It’s just …’ Aziraphale gives a little shake of his head. ‘In a way, it was easier before.’

‘Before Armageddon?’ asks Crowley slowly.

‘Yes. I don’t mean,’ Aziraphale adds quickly, when Crowley’s face crumples, ‘I don’t mean the - the separation between us! Just the, just this whole undressing bit. It was … easier.’

Crowley is confused. ‘Miracling off our clothes? We could still do that, if that’s what you prefer -’

‘I mean it was easier,’ Aziraphale interrupts, ‘because then we’d just jump right into -’

‘Fucking?’ Crowley supplies drily.

Aziraphale hits him lightly on the chest. ‘Stop that. Yes, we’d be _getting on with it_ and I didn’t have to worry so much about…’ he trails off.

Crowley stares at him, uncomprehending and growing increasingly concerned. ‘What do you worry about?’

Aziraphale sighs. ‘Crowley, I … I don’t look like you.’

‘Er … I should hope not? Be a bit weird to fuck myself.’

‘I’m _soft_.’

Crowley blinks. Once.

Aziraphale fidgets a little, his cheeks colouring again. ‘I … I think my corporation is, well, fine. Overall. But in many ways, it’s … I’m aware that I look, um …’ Aziraphale swallows. ‘So, it’s … it’s easier to be naked all at once, without having particular attention focussed on, on … individual parts.’

For a long moment, Crowley just stares at him.

‘Aziraphale,’ he says, slowly. ‘Is that … is that how you really see yourself?’

‘It’s how I am, Crowley,’ says Aziraphale quietly. ‘I’m -’

‘Soft?’ Crowley repeats.

Aziraphale nods, eyes downcast.

There is a beat. Then -

‘Yeah. You are soft, angel.’

Aziraphale blinks, suddenly stiffening in Crowley’s embrace.

‘And you know what else you are? Fucking perfect, is what you are.’

The Angel looks up, his lips parted in surprise. Crowley swoops down to kiss that look off Aziraphale’s face.

‘D’you remember,’ he breathes against Aziraphale’s lips, ‘what I said to you the first time we … the first time I _saw_ you? In Rome?’ He feels Aziraphale tremble, and tightens his arms around him.

‘I remember,’ he whispers.

‘Yeah? What’d I say?’

‘You said…’ Aziraphale swallows, his breath uneven. ‘You called me … beautiful.’

Crowley hums, not drawing away. ‘Is that all?’

‘And you - you said I was, um … gorgeous.’

‘Yeah … and?’

The Angel makes a quiet, distressed sound. ’S-stunning … that, that’s the first thing you said.’

‘Stunning,’ Crowley agrees. ‘And I meant every word, angel. Or did you not believe me?’

Aziraphale is blushing. He says nothing.

‘Hmm.’ Crowley tilts his head contemplatively. ‘Y’know, you once showed me how you felt. Before.’

With a little start, Aziraphale meets his eyes. ’Y-you mean … 1941, was it?’

Crowley grins, flashing his teeth. ‘As if you don’t remember the exact date and time, angel. A night like that? I know I’m not the only one who remembers every second.’

‘My dear,’ Aziraphale half-chides, but his lips are twitching.

‘What I’m getting at is, maybe it’s my turn to show you something,’ says Crowley gently. He leans forward, resting his forehead against Aziraphale’s. ‘Would you … would you let me show you … the way I see you?’

Aziraphale gapes up at him, mouth parted. ‘H-how do you mean?’

The Demon presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. ‘Let me undress you, angel. Let me… let me show you what a vision you are to me, always.’ He hugs Aziraphale tighter, feeling him tremble again. ‘Just … _let me_.’

Aziraphale hesitates, licking his lips. ‘All right,’ he says at last, voice just above a whisper.

Crowley makes a low, wanton noise in the back of his throat. ‘Oh, angel, I’ve wanted this for so long.’

He kisses Aziraphale, loosening his tight embrace to run his hands, fingers splayed, over the Angel’s back and sides, just feeling him. Aziraphale sighs against his lips, making a soft mewling sound when Crowley catches his lower lip between his teeth. He clings to Crowley’s shoulders, pressing harder against him as they kiss.

‘‘I love your mouth,’ he hisses as he breaks away. Busying his hands with pushing Aziraphale’s coat off his shoulders, Crowley continues, ‘I love how warm and soft your lips are. From the blessed Beginning, before I even knew what it was called when I first saw the humans kiss, I wondered how your lips would feel against mine.’

The coat drops to the floor in a heap, but for once Aziraphale doesn’t seem to notice, much less care about how his clothes are faring as Crowley relieves him of them. His breathing has turned shaky and Aziraphale shudders as Crowley begins to mouth along his jaw, still talking between kisses.

‘Now I know. I know what your lips feel like, how they move when you want me and can’t hide it…’ Crowley hands turn to Aziraphale’s bowtie, expertly undoing the tartan knot with the surprising dexterity he’s derived from a few months’ practice. ‘And I know how addicting your mouth tastes, what a greedy little thing it is …’ The tie joins the coat on the floor, and Crowley undoes the top button of Aziraphale’s shirt with one hand while the other pulls down his collar, exposing his throat and neck.

Pressing his mouth to the newly bared skin, he growls, ‘Those lips of yours are pure sin, angel, d’you know. The way you’d put your mouth on me, and kiss me …’ Crowley nips at Aziraphale’s neck and the Angel whimpers, ‘… and suck my cock or eat me out like I taste better than all of your favourite indulgences …’

‘Oh darling,’ Aziraphale gasps, still trembling. ‘You _are_ better than - than anything else.’

Crowley’s heart stutters and he buries his face in Aziraphale’s neck, sucking bruising kisses into his pale skin, making the Angel squirm and cling harder to him.

‘Love the way your mouth slicks up my fingers too, when you want them in you before I fuck you,’ he hisses and Aziraphale shudders again. ‘Your mouth is fucking obscene, angel, and I love it.’

‘Be-between the two of us, I think _your_ mouth -’ Aziraphale begins but breaks off with a little cry when Crowley bites into his neck.

‘Oh, we’re not doing that today, dove,’ he murmurs, laving his tongue over the reddening spot. He slides his hands down to unbutton Aziraphale’s vest. ‘Right now, it’s my turn.’

‘D-dove,’ Aziraphale repeats breathlessly, letting Crowley push his vest off. He is blushing harder than before when Crowley pulls away to begin working on the buttons of his shirt.

Crowley raises an eyebrow; he makes a mental note to later explore the avenue of endearments for Aziraphale.

(* Crowley himself isn’t sure where that _dove_ came from. It had just slipped past his lips in the heat of the moment, but if Aziraphale _likes_ it - well, then.)

He pops the first three buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt, watching the way the Angel fidgets even more, his growing self-consciousness evident under Crowley’s stare. With a low hum, he bends down, tilting his head to slant his lips over Aziraphale’s throat, right over his Adam’s apple. Aziraphale’s breath hitches, but he tips his head back, giving Crowley more access as the Demon lightly sucks on it, and then licks his way down, pausing to dip his tongue into the hollow of his throat.

‘C-Crowley,’ Aziraphale whispers, and his fingers dig into Crowley’s shoulders when the Demon closes his lips about his clavicle, sucking open-mouthed kisses across his collarbones.

‘Yours are … lovely, you know,’ Aziraphale breathes. ‘So sharp and beautiful. M-mine are, _ohh_ … n-not as pro-pronounced…’

Crowley promptly nips at the flesh covering Aziraphale’s left collar, rolling it between his teeth. Aziraphale takes a sharp intake of breath.

‘And yet, they’re perfect in my mouth,’ Crowley says, flicking out his tongue for a taste. ‘I could stay here, biting them for hours … but I don’t want to keep the rest of your stunning body waiting.’

Aziraphale’s chest heaves as Crowley begins to make his way down his torso. He leaves loud smacking kisses, with more tongue involved than a normal human could’ve managed, on every inch of skin uncovered as he undoes the rest of the buttons. When Aziraphale’s shirt is hanging open, revealing his lovely blush extending all the way down his chest, Crowley licks his lips appreciatively, raking his eyes over all that flushed skin.

‘Oh, angel, I could just eat you up.’

Aziraphale shifts from one foot to the other. ‘I am … rather hoping you would do just that at _some_ point tonight. But you insist on dragging this out, foul fiend.’

Crowley gives a delighted bark of laughter. If Aziraphale is up to making his typical bastard quips despite his bashfulness, Crowley’s attentions are not in vain then.

‘I will do anything you want me to do you in bed, dove,’ says Crowley, again noting Aziraphale’s embarrassed but pleased turn of mouth at the pet name. ‘But first, this -’ And he pushes the shirt off the Angel’s shoulders, leaving him nude from the waist up.

Crowley decides they’ve spent quite enough time standing about. ‘On the bed,’ he says, gesturing with a tilt of his head.

Immediately, his bed is made, not a wrinkle on the sheets, and his pillows fluffed up and waiting.

‘But I’m not…’ Aziraphale begins, looking down at his incomplete state of undress.

‘Oh, you will be, angel,’ Crowley chuckles low in his throat. ‘In good time.’

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Aziraphale steps up to the bed. ‘Maybe I ought to remove my socks, at least -?’

‘Not a single piece of clothing comes off your body unless I peel it off you tonight, Aziraphale,’ says Crowley pointedly.

Aziraphale gives him a look over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark and heated. It lasts only two seconds but Crowley shivers, remembering how over the years, even before Armageddon, Aziraphale occasionally yields all control to Crowley, enjoying the farce of being told what to do during their clandestine meetings.

The Angel crawls onto Crowley’s expansive bed*, lying down on his back when he reaches the middle.

(* Once, during the early days after Armageddon, Aziraphale had told Crowley that his bed was “gratuitously” large.

That complaint died a swift and permanent death when Crowley proceeded to fuck him, over and over again, in his too-big bed which never seemed to run out of room no matter how many times they rolled around or flipped each other over.)

Without taking his eyes off Aziraphale, Crowley casually sheds his jacket and tie, revelling in the way Aziraphale follows his every move. But he doesn’t take anything else off before crawling up the bed to join Aziraphale, hovering over him with a sharp smile.

‘Have I ever mentioned how ravishing you look in my bed?’

Aziraphale blinks up at him. ‘You already have me in your bed, my dear, you don’t need to try so hard.’

Crowley finds himself laughing again at Aziraphale’s sharp tongue. ‘I mean it, though,’ he murmurs, grinning down at him. ‘You turned your nose up at my black sheets the first time you came in here, but look at you … what a vision you make, practically _glowing_ …’

The Angel shivers a little. ‘You tease me. Glowing? Why, because I’m an Angel?’

‘Because you’re fucking beautiful and I can’t believe I get to have you like this,’ Crowley growls, and leans down to kiss him.

Aziraphale kisses back eagerly, whining when Crowley lifts his head to mouth down his neck and along his shoulders.

Crowley hums under his breath. ‘I love your shoulders, angel.’ He rakes his teeth over the plush skin. ‘So broad and strong … could feast on them all day long.’ Crowley accentuates his point by biting down lightly and sucking, feeling Aziraphale squirm beneath him again. ‘Your shoulders are one of the things I like best when you fuck me … I love holding them, _biting_ them when I ride you…’

‘I … am aware,’ Aziraphale says shakily.

With a chuckle, Crowley drops another kiss before dragging his mouth down to Aziraphale’s bare chest. He goes up on his hands and knees to take a proper look, observing the flush on Aziraphale’s skin that is yet to fade, and his dark nipples, already pebbled and hard.

Crowley smirks lazily up at the Angel. ‘Just ready for me, aren’t you,’ he breathes, and Aziraphale turns even redder as Crowley lowers his head to take his right nipple in his mouth.

The Angel moans, arching his back as Crowley laves his tongue over the hardened nub, while his hand comes up to tease the other. For a few minutes, there is nothing but silence in the room except for the helpless sounds Aziraphale makes as Crowley devotes his mouth to his chest, moving from one nipple to the other and back again, pleasuring Aziraphale with tongue and teeth until the Angel is panting desperately.

Crowley finally pulls off with an obscenely wet smack of his lips, but he doesn’t give Aziraphale a break, twisting his nipples incessantly between his fingers. ‘Fuck,’ he swears under his breath, watching with something akin to enchantment as Aziraphale writhes under his touch, moaning and fisting his hands in the sheets.

‘If I didn’t stop, could you come from just this?’ asks Crowley wonderingly. Aziraphale is too far gone to answer and Crowley makes another mental note to explore that possibility on a future date.

‘D-darling, please,’ Aziraphale whines, his chest heaving as Crowley tweaks and scratches at his nipples with blunt nails. ‘It’s … it’s too much!’

Crowley hums, leaning down to flick his tongue over Aziraphale’s right nipple. ‘But you love it.And I love it that you’re so sensitive here, whether you’re in this form or presenting in a female corporation. We had a few good times with those over the centuries, hmm?’

Aziraphale just gasps, his chest heaving harder, half trying to escape Crowley’s fingers. Crowley doesn’t let up.

‘I always adored that I could make you come undone with just this. It’s almost a pity we didn’t meet all that often in our female forms,’ he muses. ‘I’ll never forget that time in Italy, outside that monastery. Of all places,’ he snickers. ‘Remember that, _Sister Angela_?’

The Angel just whimpers, shaking as Crowley continues his sweet torture on his abused nipples.

‘You looked so good, angel. So debauched and needy under that habit, who would’ve ever guessed…’ Crowley leans down to kiss Aziraphale’s chest, working his fingers relentlessly. ‘Your pussy was sopping wet before I’d even started rubbing on you and, fuck, your breasts felt perfect in my hands. You sounded just like this that day,’ Crowley groans, wanton and now painfully hard in his tight-fitting jeans. ‘I can’t ever forget that. If that nun hadn’t come out looking for you, I was prepared to spend hours suckling your sweet breasts and fuck you right there, outside the walls of that blessed place.’

Aziraphale is panting by then, his back arching helplessly. ‘C-Crowley, please! Please, I … I can’t t-take it anymore.’

Crowley finally pulls away his hands, but not without a final kiss to Aziraphale’s nipples, laving his tongue over them to soothe the overstimulation.

As he lifts his head, Aziraphale, still breathing hard and looking a little dazed, mumbles, ‘I thought you looked absolutely wonderful in your female form too, my dear.’

‘Believe me, I _know_ ,’ Crowley smirks, tilting his head. ‘Especially with the way you acted around me for years at the Dowling’s.’

Aziraphale’s eyes widen. ‘Oh! I …’

‘You’re not subtle,’ Crowley tells him. ‘To be fair, though, many a time I was tempted to fuck you right there in the garden*, behind those rose shrubs you made an absolute mess of.’

(* They never did meet clandestinely in their guises as Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis. But for the duration they worked together at the Dowling estate, they did fuck**, with increasing frequency, when they’d meet up in London to discuss the not-Antichrist’s upbringing.

** Crowley will think back on this a few days later, and comprehend for the first time that while he’d worn a cock, Aziraphale was manifesting a vulva for most of their meetings in those eleven years. Certain realisations will _click_ and Crowley will drag Aziraphale to the bedroom, to make up for missing some very big hints the Angel was dropping back then. But _that_ is for another day.)

Aziraphale looks up at Crowley, affronted. ’I didn’t make a mess -‘ he begins huffily but Crowley cuts him off with a kiss.

‘Not all of us has a green thumb, it’s alright, angel,’ he says against his lips. With another loving kiss, he begins to move down Aziraphale’s body, murmuring, ‘Now, where were we?’

‘W-wait…’ Aziraphale breathes when Crowley kisses his sternum, just above the swell of his stomach. When the Demon looks up, questioning, Aziraphale swallows. ‘I … must you, there?’

Crowley raises an eyebrow, then looks down, raking his eyes over the generous slope of Aziraphale’s belly.

Aziraphale blushes. ’It’s just that …’

‘You’re soft?’ Crowley interrupts, his gaze sharp. ‘We’ve established that, yes. _And_ that you’re stunning, just like this.’ Lowering his mouth to Aziraphale’s stomach again, Crowley splays his fingers and smoothes his hands over Aziraphale’s sides, lightly massaging and grabbing at the rolls over his hips.

Between wet, open-mouthed kisses, Crowley mutters, ’You always rushed me when I’d kiss you here before. Figured it was part of your hurry to get to the fucking. But now I wonder, angel … were you self conscious all along, for all these thousands of years?’

Crowley looks up to meet Aziraphale’s gaze heatedly. ‘You have no reason to be. Look at you, dove, so beautiful and plush. I love how you feel under my hands,’ Crowley digs in his fingers, grabbing handfuls of Aziraphale’s soft love handles, making the Angel gasp. ‘And I love you feel under my lips…’

Relinquishing his sides, Crowley brushes his fingers deliberately over the pink and gold marks, stretching in webs across the Angel’s belly and sides. ‘I couldn’t do this before when we were just shagging, but … angel, I always wanted to…’ Trailing off, Crowley leans down to trace Aziraphale’s stretch marks with his tongue.

‘Crowley…’ Aziraphale whines, shivering as Crowley laves his clever tongue across the swell of his stomach, pausing randomly to suck kisses into Aziraphale’s skin, right over his marks. Aziraphale’s breath stutters and he throws his head back against the mattress, chest heaving as Crowley takes his sweet time, making love to his body. 

He cries the Demon’s name again when Crowley’s wandering lips find his left hipbone, where he bites into the soft flesh and fervently sucks to leave a heavy bruise.

‘Mm, been wanting to do that,’ Crowley says, lifting his head to admire his work. He presses the pads of his fingers into Aziraphale’s hipbones, pinning him down. ‘You’re sensitive here, too, aren’t ya? I always wanted to give proper attention…’ Crowley licks and sucks at the love-bite he’s left, nipping lightly to make Aziraphale jump, before continuing his pilgrimage over Aziraphale’s stomach.

His mouth comes to a halt on Aziraphale’s navel.

‘Wait, that’s …!’ exclaims the Angel, bracing himself up on his elbows in alarm.

Crowley looks up at Aziraphale from under his lashes. Without looking away, he licks, swirling his sinuous tongue over and around Aziraphale’s bellybutton.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale cries, looking utterly embarrassed.

‘Does it feel good?’ Crowley asks before closing his lips over Aziraphale’s navel and sucking lightly.

‘Y-yes, but -!’

‘I’ve made love to you in every possible way with my tongue, angel, but this makes you shy?’

Crowley dips his tongue into Aziraphale’s navel again, making him writhe. ‘You’re stunning, Aziraphale, and I’m hungry for all of you.’

With one more kiss, pressed to Aziraphale’s lower belly, Crowley goes up on his knees and, at long last, pops the button on the Angel’s trousers. Aziraphale, who already looks wrecked, widens his eyes at the realisation that there is still more to come, but he lifts his hips eagerly to help Crowley pull off his slacks.

As he peels them off Aziraphale’s legs, Crowley gives a cursory glance at the Angel’s pubic region, now covered in a pair of cotton briefs. He doesn’t have an erection and Crowley wonders if Aziraphale is now sporting a cunt.

But when he tugs down the Angel’s underwear, he finds that Aziraphale hasn’t made an effort at all. Curious, but Crowley doesn’t mind. He’s not done with showing Aziraphale what he wants to, and sex, if Aziraphale wants any afterwards, can wait.

Discarding Aziraphale’s trousers and briefs over the edge of the bed to join his coat and shirt on the floor*, Crowley spreads his naked legs with a palm on either knee. Aziraphale lets him, watching Crowley as the Demon takes him in, laid out on his dark sheets.

(* To which the Angel still says nothing; a miracle in itself.)

Smiling, Crowley runs his hands up Aziraphale’s legs, from his ankles and up under his shins to smooth down over his thick thighs, feeling the soft downy hair on them. Aziraphale quivers as Crowley presses his fingers into his inner thighs.

‘Now these … Fuck, Aziraphale, do you have any idea for how long your legs have tortured me?’

‘My legs?’ Aziraphale repeats, sounding a little disbelieving.

‘It was maddening enough when people wore robes and the like, and I’d barely catch a glimpse … but when the fashion became more form-fitting,’ hissing under his breath, Crowley settles down on his front between Aziraphale’s legs, ‘oh, angel, seeing these thighs in those posh, pretty breeches and stockings you favoured - you drove me wild. The unholy things I dreamed of doing to you…’

Aziraphale shivers again when Crowley presses his mouth to his inner thigh, just past his knee. ‘If I recall,’ he says breathlessly, ‘you did, um, do some u-unhol - _ohh_ … during th-those centuries…’

Crowley hums as he leaves biting kisses along Aziraphale’s left thigh, before turning his attentions to the neglected leg. ‘Not like this though, angel …’

Pressing the flat of his tongue to Aziraphale’s skin with every open-mouthed kiss, Crowley leisurely makes his way up the Angel’s thigh, hiding a smirk as gooseflesh prickles the heated skin. Between his ministrations, he drawls,

‘Can I tell you something, Aziraphale? Though I wouldn’t trade any of our meetings from before, I was a bit disappointed at not getting to eat you out in a proper bed many a time. Shagging in back alleys was one thing, but to have you all laid out for me like this…’ Crowley drags his tongue over the line where Aziraphale’s leg meets his hip, and the Angel whimpers. Raising his head, he meets Aziraphale’s eyes again.

‘Those times, when you wanted my mouth on you, on your cunt, your arse, and you’d wrap your legs around my head … fuck, I could hardly keep my mouth off your thighs as much as your sex.’

‘Oh Crowley,’ Aziraphale whispers, breathing hard. He trembles when Crowley buries his face between his legs, nuzzling at the blond curls on his presently bare pubic region.

‘Speaking of your sex,’ Crowley breathes, ‘I love whatever you wear when you want me. I love it when you wear a thick leaking cock for me to suck or ride, or a dripping pussy for me to eat or fuck with anything you like. And,’ looking hotly up at Aziraphale, Crowley trails his hand down between his legs, ‘I love it when you wear either of those things and still want me to take you here,’ he presses a finger, slick and teasing, over Aziraphale’s opening, making the Angel whine and squirm. ‘I adore how you’d moan and beg when I prepare you, and how you open up to me, so greedily, every time…’

‘Crowley, don’t tease,’ Aziraphale gasps, chest heaving again as Crowley circles his slick finger over the tight ring of muscle.

The Demon grins down at him, pressing in with his finger for a few more seconds, before surprising Aziraphale by grabbing him by the hips. Going up on his knees between the Angel’s legs, he heaves Aziraphale onto his lap so that the Angel’s arse is resting right on his clothed cock, his thighs around Crowley’s hips. Aziraphale stares up at him, a little open-mouthed, his spine curving in at this angle.

‘And now, for my arguably favourite,’ Crowley drawls.

He brings his palms down on Aziraphale’s plump cheeks in two resounding slaps, making the Angel yelp with both surprise and arousal. Crowley has to suppress a moan of his own, feeling the vibrations on his own cock from where it's pressed against the Angel’s arse, even through the fabric of his jeans.

‘There isn’t a single bit of you that doesn’t drive me crazy, but _fuck_ , angel,’ he growls, grabbing palmfuls of Aziraphale’s cheeks, ‘if I had the prowess your little favourite Shakespeare did, I would write fucking sonnets about your arse. You’re walking sin, dove. You tempt me with every swing of these,’ he lightly smacks Aziraphale’s arse again, eliciting another moan from the Angel, ‘and you have no idea how _long_ I spent, before Rome even, dreaming about what it’d be like to have you like this…’

Crowley trails off, palming Aziraphale’s arse cheeks while the Angel pants, his whole body flushed and wanton, and like Crowley had said earlier, glowing against the pitch dark of his sheets. His skin is dusted with purpling marks left in the wake of Crowley’s coveting mouth, and his eyes already look sex drunk when he blinks them open, to peer dazedly up at his Demon.

Crowley gazes down at him, his heart full to bursting with affection and desire. ’Aziraphale, you’re perfect. This body you wear, no matter how you manifest yourself, is perfect. And I can never get enough of you, no matter how many times I have you. And if you still don’t believe me, I’m willing to show you over and over again for the rest of my existence.’

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale whispers, and Crowley notices the sheen of tears in his eyes. ‘Oh, I believe you, darling.’

Crowley smiles, tenderly. ’Good.’

‘You … you’re the sweetest thing, but oh, you have the filthiest mouth!’

Crowley raises an eyebrow. Then he slides his tongue, slowly, over his lips before deliberatelypulling off a couple of twists in a decidedly inhuman manner. It is a move that Aziraphale immediately recognises as one of his favourites - when that tongue is inside his cunt or arse.

The Angel immediately blushes all the way down to his chest again, and Crowley smirks. ‘You like this filthy mouth of mine.’

Aziraphale squirms, still red-faced, but he’s smiling now. ‘Yes, I do, you wily old Serpent.’

‘What else do you like?’ Crowley asks, suddenly feeling rather playful.

But the look Aziraphale fixes him with sends his blood rushing down south. ‘You, darling. I like you. And if you’re quite done showing me, I want you right now.’

A shiver dances down his spine. ‘Hmm. What do you want, angel?’

Aziraphale blushes harder, but he doesn’t look away. ‘Everything you were saying just now. All that about my wearing a male or female corporation, and my breasts and - and whether I wear a cock or a pussy or in my …’ Aziraphale is babbling now, looking overwhelmed. ‘Everything, darling. I want you in all of those ways, I want you everywhere, in every way.’

Crowley grins. ‘We have time for all of that, dove. All the time in the world now. How do you want to start?’

Aziraphale pauses, thinking for a moment. He waves a hand over his bare pubic region.

Crowley looks down to study the Angel’s effort. He smiles. ‘Perfect.’

He goes easily when Aziraphale tugs impatiently at his collar. ‘Come _here_ , Crowley. Now will you please take _off_ these infernal clothes, you sweet wicked thing?’*

(* For the first time, Crowley laughs at that phrase. He has been trying to be a wicked thing for Aziraphale for so long that it’s still new to think he doesn’t have to be anymore.

But Crowley doesn’t have to worry. In truth, he’s always been a sweet thing for all these thousands of years - whether he realised or denied it - and Aziraphale will now not hesitate to let him know, always.)

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think of this part as a ~~gratuitously explicit~~ love letter to myself and everyone else struggling with body image. If you’re looking for someone, I hope you find the one who will adore you like you deserve to be, love handles and bones and all <3
> 
> My ‘Galaxies Collide’ readers, I will bring you that final chapter soon. Thanks for bearing with me while I got sidetracked by this smut-verse >.<
> 
> Please share your thoughts and feed my writer’s soul <3 (if you have ideas also, by all means spam me, I’m more than invested now and not opposed to writing more for this verse ~~though I feel I should be haha~~ )
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) or [Tumblr](https://phoenix-soar.tumblr.com)
> 
> More of my Ineffable Husbands fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Phoenix_Soar)


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